CHARLIE
Themusichadfoundits groove—low, raw, and full of grit, the kind of track that let my hands take over. Lee had dropped off a new batch of demos that morning, and being his built-in listener again gave me rhythm to work to.
I’d propped the doors open to let the December air drift in, cutting through the heat and sawdust that still clung to the studio walls. The light stretched long across the floor, catching on the sculpture I was building for Lee and Ryan’s latest album cover—a mess of old metal and broken wood, jagged in places and strangely beautiful in others, which felt about right.
Sweat collected at the back of my neck, and I peeled off my shirt, tossing it over a crate of salvaged parts before bending back over the piece. I liked it best when my arms ached, when my palms picked up splinters, when the weight of what I was making pressed into my shoulders. In the studio, surrounded by half-finished ideas and forgotten tools, I didn’t have to answer to anyone or explain the knots in my chest that never quite loosened. I could just be the guy with dust in his lungs and unfinished thoughts.
Then I heard it.
At first, I thought there was a glitch in the track, a weird mechanical chirp that didn’t belong. But then it came again, sharp and high and carrying an unmistakable attitude.
Nancy Reagan.
The blur of brown fur tore across the studio before I even had time to turn down the music. She darted past my feet, sniffed around a stack of wood scraps, then zeroed in on a flattened cardboard box and began tearing at it with wild enthusiasm.
I stared at her, still holding the heat gun mid-air. “You’ve got to be kidding me.”
A breathless voice answered from the doorway, and there she was.
Tally stood in the frame, hair piled on top of her head, cheeks flushed, hand on her stomach as if steadying herself from the chase. The sleeves of her sweatshirt hung long past her fingers, and her leggings clung to her legs, dusted with whatever she’d picked up chasing her insane dog around.
“She got out when I took the trash to the alley,” she said, trying to sound casual. “She’s got a thing for cardboard.”
“Of course she does.” I nodded toward the box she was currently destroying. “You sure she’s not part goat?”
Tally stepped inside, one careful foot in front of the other, and I didn’t miss the way her face lost its color as soon as she crossedinto the light. Her hand reached out, caught the edge of the bench, and her body swayed ever so slightly, shoulders dipping.
“I’m fine,” she said before I could ask, eyes unfocused, voice low. “Just dizzy.”
I moved toward her, already setting the heat gun aside, but she waved me off. Still, I kept walking, kept watching, alarm bells going off in my head.
And then her knees buckled.
I caught her before the ground did, lowering us both down to the cool concrete floor. She felt warm and unsteady, her skin too damp, her breathing uneven.
“Tally.” I brushed my hand across her forehead. “You’re clammy as hell.”
Nancy sat beside us, tail flicking against the floor. I reached for my phone, but before I could open Doyle’s contact, she stirred, fingers curling around the fabric of my jeans.
“Don’t call my brother,” she whispered, not opening her eyes. “He’ll put me on some kale cleanse and make me meditate through it.”
I let out a quiet laugh, part relief, part disbelief. “Fine. But you’re letting me carry you upstairs.”
“Worst day ever,” she muttered, barely above a breath.
“You say that every time you end up on the floor in my studio.”
One eye cracked open, a flicker of life returning to her expression. “I’m starting to think you’re cursed.”
“Or maybe you are.” I slid my arms beneath her carefully. “You’ve got a knack for showing up just in time to keep things interesting.”
She didn’t answer. Her head tipped against my shoulder as I stood, her weight sinking into me, deciding not to argue this one. Nancy trailed behind us, still chomping on a flap of cardboard, utterly unbothered.
And as I carried her through the open door, her breath soft against my chest, I couldn’t stop the thought from rising—one that had been pressing at the edge of my mind for days.
Maybe things weren’t so bad after all.
Maybe what I’d been waiting on had already found its way in.
